


Rainy afternoon

by Taikida



Series: Of Swords, Daggers, Rocks and Horses [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Family, Friendhip, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taikida/pseuds/Taikida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos had always seen that d'Artagnan took care of his horse, so seeing it lathered with sweat and the rider slumped in the saddle made him start...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainy afternoon

It was a rare sight to see the young Gascon to ride a horse lathered, or as Athos recollected he had never seen the young man ride a horse to that state. The dark haired man looked around, something was wrong, he had ridden out with others, escorting a nobleman, friend to the king, back to his country mansion.

“d'Artagnan!” Athos cried out as he hurried across the rainy garrison yard, gripped the black stallions reins patting the shivering wet neck. “What is wrong?” 

“Captain Treville, is he here?” d'Artagnan asked, still in the saddle, his cloak as wet as everything else, Athos looked up at him, took note of his pale features.

“He is at the castle, the King requested his presence,” Athos answered as he stepped back from the horse, still a hold on the reins. “What happened?”

“Ambush, the count is safe, We had some losses, left Lumier and Raoul at the abbey,” d'Artagnan said as he leaned forward in the saddle. “They aimed to kidnap the count, it is the fourth attempt to do something similar in two weeks, I need to speak with the captain.” Athos nodded as he let go of the horse, talking with Treville was indeed important, but the horse was spent.

“Take one of the garrison horses, I will go with you,” Athos said as he motioned for horses to be brought from the stable, he looked at his glove, the black worn leather was darkened with blood. The musketeer turned back to d'Artagnan taking the two steps beck to the young man. “Are you wounded? d'Artagnan?” Athos reached up shaking d'Artagnan's arm as the young man gave no response, his eyes vacant as he tipped forward and down from the saddle, into Athos' arms. The oldest of the quartet took in the bloodied shirt beneath the cloak, blood that had spilled down his breeches, it made him go cold inside as he just hoisted the nearly limp Gascon into a better hold, hurrying up the stairs.

“Aramis! Aramis!” Said musketeer came running from the office of captain Treville, he had finished a report of the previous kidnap attempt of the Swedish ambassador, and he took one look at the wounded man in Athos' arms before running a few steps ahead to open the door to the garrison infirmary, clearing one of the tables.

“Put him here,” he said as he hurriedly pulled his sleeves up before cleaning his hands, as Athos cut the ties of d'Artagnan's shirt moving it aside to see the damage, a cut ran across the Gascon's left side, bleeding freely, he turned, taking some bandages and then firmly pushed it into the cut. The dark eyes opened, pain and confusion in them and a hand closed around Athos right wrist with surprising strength.

“It's alright d'Artagnan, it's us,” Aramis said as he patted the young mans shoulder, ”I need to apply my needlework to you.”

“Need to speak with Treville...” the Gascon said as he tried to sit up, Athos, simply shook his head as he continued to keep pressure on the wound, the wad of fabric was already wetting through. The boy had paled at his ineffective try for escape, the pain getting the better of him.

“You will speak with him when he returns, you have already passed out once,” Athos voice was calmer than he felt, the stubborn young man probably would have tried to get up if he hadn't held him down, Porthos entered the room at a run, his eyes wide with kept back anger at the unknown assailant of d'Artagnan. 

“I heard it from Lasauc, the red guard, he came to find me, told me that he and two others had hoisted our fool back up on his horse after he had fainted in front of them!” the burliest of them said as he looked at d'Artagnan's face, glad to find him alive.

“Porthos, hold his shoulders down, Athos, his legs,” Aramis ordered as he took over holding down the bloodied fabric, but d'Artagnan's grip on Athos arm hadn't lessened, the dark eyes barely able to focus on him.

“I will speak with Treville on his return, if you are unconscious or sleeping,” Athos promised, the grip loosened and Athos moved to hold him down as Aramis started his work, the boy bucked from the pain, biting his lip to keep any sound escaping his lips, Aramis whispered words of comfort as he expertly examined and cleaned the wound before stitching the wound shut. d'Artagnan passed out as they bandaged him up, Aramis shook his head as he tied the straps tight. 

“He is stubborn, I would have thought that he would have passed out long before, the wound isn't to deep, but he already have a fever, we'll need to keep our eyes on him,” Aramis said quietly as he moved to prepare a bed in the corner as Porthos lifted the unconscious man as gently as if he was made of glass and placed him down on the bed.

“He'll be alright,” Athos said as he sat down on the chair next to the bed, ready to sit vigil with the other two, watching over d'Artagnan. He was after all, their little brother, and big brothers kept smaller ones safe.


End file.
